Historicity of the canonical Gospels

I found this fascinating lecture by Dr. Timothy McGrew, on the historicity of the four Gospels and Acts. (He's a philosophy professor at Western Michigan Univ. in Kalamazoo.) I don't think I can embed it here, but follow the link. You can either listen to the audio only, or hear it while viewing the corresponding slides. I'm sure none of us are in grave doubt about this topic, but his arguments are easily portable for apologetics, and his methodology is utterly sound. Quite a good lecture.

Merry Christmas to every blessing in the new year of grace 2012!

Homily - Dec 14, 2011, Feast of St. John of the Cross (falling on Wednesday of the Third Week of Advent)

Today in my homily at the Cathedral, I started out like this:

"Turn to me and be safe, all you ends of the earth, for I am God; there is no other!" (Is 45:21) Today, as we celebrate the memorial of St. John of the Cross, the great Carmelite reformer, we note that we are two-thirds of the way through Advent. Have we done as we are called to do in this season of preparation for Christ's coming - His coming to us in our hearts, and His coming in Bethlehem in the Incarnation, and His final coming to judge the living and the dead? Have we in fact turned back to God?

I'll answer for myself, and I think most of you would agree with this answer: "Yes, but..." Yes, we love God; that's why we're here for this Mass. But, I am weak; I am easily distracted; I am subject to temptation. I know well my own failings.

But this is the great joy of the Incarnation, which has changed everything, always and everywhere: Turning to God is not something we do only once. Just as He comes to us again and again in His Church, so we can turn back to Him again and again. He always remains faithful. He longs for our conversion with a patience as great as His infinite love.

I said just a little more about using well what remains of Advent, which to be honest I can't remember very clearly. I ended with the same quote from the first reading I started on. I had intended to add another line to that quote ("Only in the LORD are just deeds and power"), and then say finish on something like "Jesus, we trust in you," but when I looked down at the lectionary, I couldn't find it. It wasn't in my head, it wasn't on the page; so I simply stopped right there.

One of the parishioners told me after Mass he thought I was going to say something else when I ended my homily. We shared a chuckle when I explained how I lost my place on the page.

St. John of the Cross, prayer for us!

Foundations of the New Evangelization

This past Saturday, the first group of US bishops completing their ad limina visit were received by Pope Benedict. His address to them is simple and compelling. These two paragraphs impart some of that sense of urgency and focus (i.e., deep hope that responds to real needs) which the Church's ministry ought to exemplify:

Many of you have shared with me your concern about the grave challenges to a consistent Christian witness presented by an increasingly secularized society. I consider it significant, however, that there is also an increased sense of concern on the part of many men and women, whatever their religious or political views, for the future of our democratic societies. They see a troubling breakdown in the intellectual, cultural and moral foundations of social life, and a growing sense of dislocation and insecurity, especially among the young, in the face of wide-ranging societal changes. Despite attempts to still the Church’s voice in the public square, many people of good will continue to look to her for wisdom, insight and sound guidance in meeting this far-reaching crisis. The present moment can thus be seen, in positive terms, as a summons to exercise the prophetic dimension of your episcopal ministry by speaking out, humbly yet insistently, in defense of moral truth, and offering a word of hope, capable of opening hearts and minds to the truth that sets us free.

At the same time, the seriousness of the challenges which the Church in America, under your leadership, is called to confront in the near future cannot be underestimated. The obstacles to Christian faith and practice raised by a secularized culture also affect the lives of believers, leading at times to that “quiet attrition” from the Church which you raised with me during my Pastoral Visit. Immersed in this culture, believers are daily beset by the objections, the troubling questions and the cynicism of a society which seems to have lost its roots, by a world in which the love of God has grown cold in so many hearts. Evangelization thus appears not simply a task to be undertaken ad extra; we ourselves are the first to need re-evangelization. As with all spiritual crises, whether of individuals or communities, we know that the ultimate answer can only be born of a searching, critical and ongoing self-assessment and conversion in the light of Christ’s truth. Only through such interior renewal will we be able to discern and meet the spiritual needs of our age with the ageless truth of the Gospel.

But his concluding paragraph is even better:

In the end, however, the renewal of the Church’s witness to the Gospel in your country is essentially linked to the recovery of a shared vision and sense of mission by the entire Catholic community. I know that this is a concern close to your own heart, as reflected in your efforts to encourage communication, discussion and consistent witness at every level of the life of your local Churches... Young people have a right to hear clearly the Church’s teaching and, most importantly, to be inspired by the coherence and beauty of the Christian message, so that they in turn can instill in their peers a deep love of Christ and his Church.

Or, much more bluntly, dissent is idolatry. When we ignore or usurp or fudge the judgment of Tradition; when we take upon ourselves the role of the Magisterium which Christ entrusted to the Apostles, to be handed on to their successors, the bishops; when we substitute our own vision for His vision for us, we commit a grave injustice. Not only do we deprive others of the right to hear Christ's voice, to see His face, unimpeded, we also claim implicitly that our voice and face are His.

Pope Benedict ties this explicitly to both the prophetic role of the hierarchy, and to their priestly role: A weakened sense of the meaning and importance of Christian worship can only lead to a weakened sense of the specific and essential vocation of the laity to imbue the temporal order with the spirit of the Gospel. We have to be at least as obedient to Tradition in the liturgy as we do in the works of charity. That doesn't mean a blind return to the past, of course, but it does mean that the past still lives for us. The "unity of shared vision" Pope Benedict is talking about is not just where we're going, but also where we've been. We have to preserve and make our own the depth and richness of the liturgical vision which is "Traditional." That includes two things Pope Benedict has preached about for decades: continuity and organic development.

Pope Benedict encourages praying the Liturgy of the Hours

At the end of his Wednesday Audience this week, Pope Benedict XVI said,

"I would like to renew my call to everyone to pray the Psalms, to become accustomed to using the Liturgy of the Hours, Lauds, Vespers, and Compline. Our relationship with God can only be enriched by our journeying towards Him day after day."

It is part of our ministry as deacons, and even already as aspirants and candidates, not only to be firmly attached ourselves to praying the Office, and letting it form and enrich us, but also to encourage and teach others to do the same. Over at New Liturgical Movement, they put up a nice post about this Wednesday audience, and some simple tips on beginning:

First, while not underestimating what you can do, do not bite off more than you can chew either... Second, establish a routine around the praying of the Divine Office... The third suggestion I would give is for you to buy a liturgical wall calendar...

It's worth reading.

Year of Faith

The Holy Father, Pope Benedict XVI, yesterday announced:

I would like to announce in this Eucharistic celebration I have decided to convene a ‘Year of Faith’, which I will explain in an apostolic letter. This ‘Year of Faith’ begins on October 11, 2012, on the 50th anniversary of the beginning of Vatican II, and ends on November 24, 2013, for the Solemnity of Christ, the King of the Universe. It will be a moment of grace and commitment to a more complete conversion to God, to strengthen our faith in Him and to proclaim Him with joy to the people of our time.

Here's the promised letter.

Ecclesiology and the "plan of action" that is Ministry

Given what we've said about what the Church is, and what relation she ought to have with the Polis (state, country, political unit), how do we start drawing conclusions about what the Church ought to be doing to serve all people?

The second part of the constitution Gaudium et Spes, on the Church in the modern world, lists some key areas where the ministry of the Church is particularly valuable, and ought to be particularly visible. These concerns are marriage and family life (#47ff), development of culture (#53ff), economy and society (#63ff), and politics, both intra-national (#73ff) and inter-national (#77ff). Notice that this list also progresses in the order of subsidiarity, from the smallest and most personal level to the global level. Let's take a quick look at them.

Marriage and Family Life

GS #47: The well-being of the individual person and of human and Christian society is intimately linked with the healthy condition of that community produced by marriage and family. Since the family is the domestic church, and the basic, subsidiary unit of both human and ecclesial life, the Church puts an extremely high priority on protecting and fostering healthy families. Gaudium et Spes lists some threats to married life: polygamy, divorce, fornication, abortion, contraception, worship of self and of pleasure, etc. Therefore the Church's ministry needs to address these kinds of threats, which, of course, we do on a regular basis. Clergy are (as we have always been) on the "front lines" of dealing with issues in marriages, both before and after the fact; and the Church also has resources like Catholic Charities and other Catholic professionals to help protect existing marriages, and heal broken ones (to the extent possible). Catechesis of married adults and their children, and of youth before (both remote and proximate) marriage, takes place constantly. And the witness of married couples themselves is of course critical to the success of these other efforts. All of this also needs to show up regularly in liturgical preaching.

But notice that these efforts to promote marriage and family are also "social justice" efforts. Divorce is the single greatest cause of generational poverty, and the consequences usually fall more heavily on women than men. The outcomes for children of divorced families (education levels, economic status, rates of criminal behavior and both social and physical disease, and stability of their own future marriages) are all significantly lower than for children whose parents do not divorce. All of these things also drive up taxes to support expanding social services, and may tend to imbalance the Church-State relationship and marginalize ecclesial efforts to serve in these areas. The long term costs of abortion and contraception are also devastating, not only morally (as is obvious) but also fiscally (elimination of millions of productive workers, etc, which more and more we are publicly admitting).

So, ecclesial ministry which succeeds in reducing rates of divorce, abortion, contraception, etc, and in strengthening marriage to the same extent, not only serves the individuals who benefit from that ministry directly, but also serves the Church as a whole, and the world in which she lives.

Culture

GS #53: Man comes to a true and full humanity only through culture, that is through the cultivation of the goods and values of nature. The "goods and values of nature" are of course many and diverse, and how we "cultivate" them (including both conservation/tradition and innovation/progress) gives us a distinctive "character" at a given time and place. Thus, The word "culture" in its general sense indicates everything whereby man develops and perfects his many bodily and spiritual qualities; he strives by his knowledge and his labor, to bring the world itself under his control. He renders social life more human both in the family and the civic community, through improvement of customs and institutions. Throughout the course of time he expresses, communicates and conserves in his works, great spiritual experiences and desires, that they might be of advantage to the progress of many, even of the whole human family (ibidem).

Gaudium et Spes includes as threats to culture, especially in the modern (urbanizing, industrializing, individualizing) context: technology and the pace of change, commodification of goods and human services, materialism, scientism, deracination, homogenization (loss of traditional wisdom and character), etc.

Obviously, building up families and strengthening marriage also helps preserve and strengthen culture. The human aspects of labor, social relations and engagement, exchange of goods and services, etc., are far less likely to be diminished or lost, when family life is strong and healthy. Family life is the subsidiary reality and model for all social life; its health is the barometer of culture.

In addition, GS #60-61 particularly exhorts the followers of Christ to particular forms of ministry: to support education, while maintaining the Catholic vision of the unity of knowledge within itself (against hyper-specialization in sub-disciplines), and between itself (techne) and morality (sophia); to foster the humanizing aspects of labor; to inculcate a shared commitment to duty (pietas, in its original meaning) to the common good along with personal rights; and to respect the essential differences between men and women, even in the marketplace. Clearly, education is a fundamental ministerial commitment in the Church, not only to our Catholic schools and universities, but also our RE programs, adult bible studies, and sacramental prep, etc. - not to mention upholding the fundamental right of parents to raise their children. In all these ways, the fundamental truth that we must teach is that of the human person: created and loved by God, fallen in Adam, redeemed in Christ, called to and capable of living every aspect of life in intimate union with Christ and thus in the Trinity. Family and ecclesial life, the sacraments and prayer and service must so deeply underlie every individual effort at education/formation that they cannot be separated from it.

In terms of the Church's ministry, clergy have to be present and inherently involved in the life of these institutions. Lay people, with their vocation of bringing all things under Christ's feet by their labor and witness, must work to transform these institutions more deeply into the image of Christ. All the various ways these might take place follow pretty straightforwardly.

Further, while Gaudium et Spes doesn't explicitly go here, there are implied hooks between this document and the other three conciliar Constitutions (Dei Verbum, Lumen Gentium, and especially Sacrosanctum Concilium). This sacred Council has several aims in view: it desires to impart an ever increasing vigor to the Christian life of the faithful; to adapt more suitably to the needs of our own times those institutions which are subject to change; to foster whatever can promote union among all who believe in Christ; to strengthen whatever can help to call the whole of mankind into the household of the Church. The Council therefore sees particularly cogent reasons for undertaking the reform and promotion of the liturgy (SC #1). Culture is never whole without religion, and in religion, liturgy ("cultus")is the primary vehicle of passing on culture. In other words, we cannot pursue social justice or the common good without a solid and enduring foundation in right worship. In short, "Save the liturgy, save the world."

Economy and Society, and Politics

From this it follows that our consistent witness in living for Christ is the engine of divinization in the world. The proclamation of the Gospel in both word and action; the authenticity of standing consistently at the foot of the Cross in all social, economic, and political situations, and in being seen publicly to stand there; and the uncompromising commitment to be the instruments of bringing the order of nature under the order of grace: these are the hallmarks of compelling ecclesial ministry, always and everywhere. For man is the source, the center, and the purpose of all economic and social life (#63). Christians who take an active part in present-day socio-economic development and fight for justice and charity should be convinced that they can make a great contribution to the prosperity of mankind and to the peace of the world. In these activities let them, either as individuals or as members of groups, give a shining example (#70).

Nod to the Natural Law

Note, finally, in this exposition of ecclesiological ministry, the implicit hierarchy of goods. In the commitment of belonging only to Christ, being pro-life comes first, and being pro-family can't really be separated from it. (Of the Ten Commandments, this immediately invokes obedience to #1, 3, 4, 5, and 6.) From these first-order goods comes the second order of "the common good," especially what is tangibly grasped in the concrete life of the community (diocesan Church, local society with vigorously healthy voluntary associations, and deeply shared engagement in economy and political life). This layer of commitment invokes the remaining five Commandments (#2 in right worship in communion with the local bishop, and #7-10 in right social relations with others). Finally, the tertiary order of goods follows, in political commitments and party platforms and identifications. In a truly healthy culture, these various tertiary commitments never differ on the first and second order goods, but may envision different means of achieving them, or may differ on aspects of prudence. How much we argue about the first- and second-order goods is a clear measure of how unhealthy our culture is today, and by implication, how disconnected from that sickness our ministry can be.

Ecclesiology - Who's in charge here, anyway??

Church-State relations have always been a bit testy. I think the apologists were mostly correct: God may have permitted states to form, "because of the hardness of our heart," but basically that power or authority is going to be used badly, as often as not. Part of the mission of the Church is to curtail that abuse, to "Christianize" the state. In a very schematic way, we can think about it in four phases:

1. Early Church, "Age of Martyrs" - characterized by a Church trying to distinguish itself clearly (in its intellectual, social, moral, and liturgical life) from everything around it (Judaism, Paganism(s), Heresies).

2. Constantinian Church - After Constantine's conversion, he intervened (or interfered) in Church matters, including disputed ownership of dioceses, public policy favoring Christians and churches (taxes, wills, etc), and theology - up to and including the First Council of Nicaea in 325. Constantine called himself "bishop for external affairs" and applied the old prerogatives of the pagan "Pontifex Maximus" to the Church. Since we're being schematic, we can say that this arrangement lasted in the East more or less until 1453.

3. Medieval Church - Pope Gelasius I offered the so-called "two-swords" theory, dividing civil and ecclesiastical power. Since we're being schematic, we can say that in the Early Middle Ages, the Church authority was independent of the state's, but generally weaker. Kings, dukes, and counts had a lot of say in Church affairs, even to choosing (or at least approving) key Church appointments. In the High and Later Middle Ages (after the Investiture Controversy), the Church's authority was independent of the state's, but generally stronger. The Church has a lot of say in political affairs, even to choosing or approving kings, marriages, and successions. Positively, it was felt that the Church, being morally free in Christ, could morally direct the use of the state's coercive power (police, law systems, justiciary); while lacking that power itself would be a check on human weakness. The state, by cooperating with the Church in this way, could be more the instrument of divine rule God had intended it to be; while not choosing the end of its own coercive power would be a check on human weakness.

4. Since the Treaty of Westphalia (1648) - The Reformation and its aftermath dramatically changed the relationship of Church and State. States in the 16th century completed the subordination of the nobility, and the extension of the powers of royal (i.e. central) government over all associated territories (formerly duchies, counties, etc). They successfully monopolized for that royal or central government the use of coercive force. The Church was now the only non-physical limit to the power of the king, or later of Parliament or Prime Minister or President. But the Church itself was both damaged and discredited in the Reformation and what followed, so it couldn't really perform that function well. The coercive power of the state was uncoupled from the Church's direction, mostly so that the competing churches couldn't use it against each other, as in the Wars of Religion and 30 Years War. The State became morally self-regulating in its use of coercion. Hence the creation of the modern "rights of man" language, that tries to set clear limits on how the state can use its unrivaled power. But since the 19th century and industrialization, that tradition has been breaking down in practice. Fascism and Communism have the same roots as we do, and in each case the State devoured itself. Liberalism (representative democracy regulating a common, relatively free market) has all the same risks.

Since the 19th century, meanwhile, the Church has been rebuilding its moral vigor. Ecumenism is overcoming the partisan divisions of the past, and the common moral vision of our Christian heritage is more easily articulated. A document like Gaudium et Spes clearly shows the desire of a united front of Christians committed to being a moral force in the world, and a check on the otherwise autonomous (unchecked) civil power which now dominates it. The pro-life battleground is the obvious place this is playing out most confrontationally. Marriage issues are quickly becoming another. Christians can - must - choose between this reinvigorated prophetic Christianity (magisterial Catholics, most Evangelicals, most Orthodox, a few other Protestants) and the limpid sold-out squooshiness of decaying hippy progressive Christianity (cafeteria Catholics, mainstream Protestants).

This makes it clear that the Church's future is with the New Evangelization. Spineless liberal Christianity, which has abandoned dogma and Tradition, rejected Revelation, and explained away every miracle of salvation history, has nothing at all with which to play its proper role in limiting the immoral abuse of the state's growing power. In accepting as "spilled milk" fornication, adultery, abortion, and homosexuality - issues, notice, where the state uses "rights" language, not to raise the moral bar, but to lower it forcibly - liberal Christianity has already capitulated to the state's modern ambition. It is without force, without hope, and without energy.

In contrast, the prophetic Christianity of the New Evangelization, both Catholic and non-Catholic, alone has the intellectual and moral capacity to curtail the modern state. In opposing fornication, adultery, abortion, and homosexuality, it correctly identifies the wedge issues through which the self-regulating state is inexorably attempting to expand its use of authority. To the extent that the Church achieves some success in resisting these social changes, it forces the state not to change the meaning of "rights" language, and to be accountable for its use of power. It therefore re-establishes the proper relationship of moral power between it and the state.

Finally, no matter how much things have changed since Pope Gelasius I at the end of the 5th century, three concrete principles still apply and must be observed by all parties:

1. The state has no power over the Church's sacramental life. This inviolable principle is dangerously at play in current marriage politics. "Tyranny" is not too strong a word for the state legistlating sacramental life. We, as clerics, have to be willing to stand on this principle and take the scorn of the sick world, like the martyrs before us - most especially on those critical wedge issues where the state tries to make inroads where it really doesn't belong.

2. The Church isn't better at politics that the politicians. Obvious, one would think, but useful to remind ourselves that our mission is souls, not politics. To be truly prophetic, one must be apolitical. Pope Benedict said some interesting things last week in Germany about the Church embracing its modern poverty (no Papal States, no great reserves of wealth like the medieval Church had, dependent on the charity of the people for its operating resources) precisely for this prophetic end.

3. Every good law is supported by the universal moral law, what Catholics call "natural law." This is the right relation between Church and state. The Church has both the right and the obligation to explain both the natural law and the divine law, revealed in Scripture; and to expect that the State will listen to this wisdom. The State simply cannot be its own moral voice; it needs the Church to teach it the natural law, and to point to the revealed law, over and over again.

Holy Father in Germany

The Vatican website has collected the texts, and some video, of the Holy Father's visit last week to Germany. His talks are, as usual, outstanding. I especially recommend his last talk, in Freiberg, in which he talks with great clarity about the mission of the Church, the good of apostolic poverty (i.e., not being politicized but being able to critique politics and culture from the outside), and the need for interior conversion. May God bless and strengthen His servant, Benedict, for the ministry of Peter!

Ecclesiology, for class discussion

First, here’s the link to Pius XII's encyclical, Mystici Corporis (1943). Note what he says about the Church being (definition, not description) the mystical Body of Christ.

Second, "What is the Church?" We started with details of the preparatory revelation of the Old Testament, and types of the Church. We looked in the NT for some of the key moments when Christ gives the Church its most powerful gifts. And we've glanced quickly at how those gifts both remain stable and unchanging, and simultaneously can be used very differently, through time (Tradition). From all of this, I suggest three things for your consideration and discussion, to help prepare for next class on 9/24. I hope it’s obvious how these three (mutually enlightening) definitions come out of the OT, NT, and Tradition that we covered in our first two classes.

1. The Church is the New Covenant.
a. Where are the fundamental elements of the Old Covenant in the New (i.e. God, People, Land, Law; sacrifice, revelation, unique mission for the world, unique identifying rituals)?
b. Fit into this the threefold mission (liturgy, proclamation, service).
c. Fit into this the seven virtues (faith, hope, love, prudence, temperance, justice, fortitude).

2. The Church is the Body of Christ.
a. How is St. Paul’s language about being the Body of Christ literal (historical, and eschatological, both) and not merely a metaphor?
b. How does our being this Body make us “a perfect and visible society”? What else (more than visible) needs to be added (more on this with Lumen Gentium on 10/8).

3. The Church is the spotless Bride of Christ.
a. Sometimes this is conflated with Covenant, but not necessarily. How do the Gospels and St. Paul use this nuptial identity? (Again, more on this with LG.)
b. How does this relate to traditions of clerical and monastic celibacy? How are celibacy and marriage connected within the Church, and therefore by analogy between Church and Christ?

Discuss!

WYD pilgrims

The front page photo of the Globe this week is one taken of some of our local pilgrims at WYD in Spain.



Looking carefully, I see that Fr. Lingle has, as I hoped he would, taken advantage of Spain's great and flourishing cottage industry in ecclesiastical haberdashery. I may be mistaken, but I believe that particular item is called the "galeretto mollo"...

Some Thoughts or Reminders about the Liturgy of the Hours

The Liturgy of the Hours (LH) - also called Divine Office (DO) or simply Office - is the daily, public, shared prayer of the whole Church. It is just as much "The Liturgy" as the daily Mass. We need to treat it with very nearly the same reverence and joy that we treat and dare to approach the Holy Eucharist, both in Holy Mass and in Adoration.

If we're praying it in private, maybe with our wife or our family, perhaps we don't need to be too punctilious about the externals - candles, vestments, standing and sitting and bowing, etc. But we should definitely have the right kind of spirit in praying it. We should never rush through it, just to get it done. We should never do it by rote, letting our minds wander already to the day's troubles etc. We should never forget we are praying for all those, both in the Church and outside, "as much for the living as for the dead," who may not have anyone else to pray for them.

This is one of the reasons I encourage you to learn to sing the DO, and why I mostly do it that way myself, even when alone. Singing forces me not to rush. Singing forces me to pay attention to my breathing, and to the words. Singing occupies parts of my mind that are drifting when I don't sing the DO. I've learned from experience what a lousy pray-er I can be, and I am grateful to the Church's wisdom for reminding me that the Psalms are always meant to be sung. It's easier to be recollected when singing the Office. (It's also more solemn, and more different from any other kind of public reading or recitation, etc, etc, just as it is with chant in the Mass.)

Singing also connects me and my offering of the DO more concretely to the whole Church. Maybe that's more subjective than I usually think it is, but the fact remains that the Church as a whole has always sung the Psalms. Generations of monks and deacons and pious husbands seem to be looking over my shoulder, or hovering just out of sight, when I'm singing the Office. The Church still recommends the DO be sung, as much as possible.

If we're leading LH in public, we should take the same care to prepare and make use of the externals as we do for Mass or Adoration. The proper vestments for leading LH are alb and stole (and cope); or cassock and surplice and stole (and cope). Four or six candles should be used, on or next to the altar. For more solemn events or days, there should be procession, incense, etc; for less solemn, there are simpler but still dignified ways of doing the same thing.

The LH combines very well with other liturgical rituals - sacraments outside of Mass, liturgy of the Word, and especially Exposition and Adoration (and Benediction).
There are rules about how to combine these different things, and in what possible combinations, and you can look those up - or, for you newer guys, ask me or one of the older guys.

Some ammo from the General Instruction on the Liturgy of the Hours (every Psalter and Breviary has this document in it):

15. In the LH the Church exercises the priestly office of its head, and offers to God "unceasingly" a sacrifice of praise...

16. When the Church offers praise to God in the LH, it unites itself with that hymn of praise which is sung in the heavenly places throughout all ages; it also receives a foretaste of the song of praise in Heaven...

18. Those who take part in the LH bring growth to God's people in a hidden but fruitful apostolate, for the work of the apostolate is directed to this end, "that all who are made sons of God through faith and baptism may come together in unity, praise God in the midst of the Church, share in the sacrifice and eat the supper of the Lord."

23. Those in Holy Orders [among others] have the responsibility of initiating and directing the prayer of the community... They must therefore see to it tha the faithful are invited -- and prepared by suitable instruction -- to celebrate the principle Hours in common, especially on Sundays and feast days.

255. The priest or deacon who presides at a celebration [of LH] may wear a stole over the alb or surplice; a priest may also wear a cope. On greater solemnities, there is nothing to prevent several priests from wearing copes, or several deacons from wearing dalmatics.

256. It is for the presiding priest or deacon, from the chair, to open the celebration with the introductory verse, to begin the Lord's Prayer, to say the concluding prayer, to greet the people, bless them and dismiss them.

258. In the absence of a priest or deacon, the one who presides at the Office is only one among equals; he does not enter the sanctuary, or greet or bless the people.

261. During the Gospel Canticle at MP and EP, the altar, then the priest [deacon] and the people may be incensed.

Saint Bartholomew, Apostle and Martyr

Jesus said to him, "Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you." Nathanael [=Bartholomew] answered him, "Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!" (Jn 1:48-9)

Many of the Old Testament prophets use the fig tree as a symbol of the Covenant. If it's barren, the fig tree can mean that the People of God are not living up to the Covenant, as for example in Jeremiah 8: "How will you say, 'We are wise, and the law of the Lord is with us?' In vain have the scribes used a false pen. The wise men are ashamed, and alarmed, and taken, because they have rejected the word of the Lord. What wisdom is there in them? ...There are no grapes on the vines, and no figs on the fig trees, and the leaves have fallen off."

But if the fig tree is flourishing, it can mean that the fullness of God's grace abounds, as for example in Micah 4: "And at the last days, the mountain of the Lord shall be manifest, and established above the mountains and exalted above the hills... for out of Zion shall go forth a law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. And he shall judge among many peoples, and shall rebuke strong nations afar off; and they shall beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into sickles... And everyone shall rest under his vine, and everyone under his fig tree, and there shall be none to alarm them, for the mouth of the Lord Almighty has spoken these words."

Philip and Bartholomew are looking and longing for the Messiah, "him of whom Moses in the law, and also the prophets, wrote" (Jn 1:"45). His heart is "without guile" (1:47), and therefore is open to God satisfying his desire. Philip, who has witnessed John the Baptist baptize Jesus, tells Bartholomew to "Come and see" (1:46) the one who fulfills these prophecies. So when Jesus tells Bartholomew, "I saw you under the fig tree," the prophets' use of the fig tree leaps to mind. Bartholomew recognizes that this man, who knows his mind and heart so intimately and immediately, is from God, and is God - the Son of God and King of Israel, the "word of the Lord from Jerusalem" of whom Micah spoke.

Bartholomew believes because Jesus identifies Himself to him in this very intimate and personal way. Because he believes, he sacrifices all to follow Him. He becomes one of the Twelve, and eventually a great preacher and martyr who established the Church in India.

Jesus identifies Himself to us with the same immediate, intimate, and personal love. In baptism, and confession, and Eucharist, He calls us to follow Him. How do we let Jesus see us? Are our hearts "without guile" for Him? Do we rest under the fig tree - seeking union with Him in Scripture, and in the sacraments, and in prayer? Do we hold firmly to our hope and faith in His victory over sin and death? Do we recognize Him? Are we ready to hear and respond?

Lord, give us the grace to be "useful to the Gospel"

What applies to individuals can apply just as easily to institutions and organizations. The more that Catholic universities or hospitals mute their religious identity, the more that Catholic social ministries weaken their religious character, the less “Catholic” they are, the less useful to the Gospel they become.

From an address by Archbishop Chaput to the Catholic Social Workers National Association, in June 2011, and published on First Things. And in case you've missed it, Archbishop Chaput was named today the next bishop of Philadelphia.

"Bought with a Price"

His Excellency, Paul Loverde, Bishop of Arlington, Virginia, has published an excellent pastoral letter on pornography. He deals with what pornography is, he demolishes the false arguments that try to justify its use, he details the ravages to persons and to families that is causes, and he lists several concrete things that we can do to push back against its insinuating corruption. I really hope this finds its way onto marriage prep reading lists. Please read the whole thing.

Maniple manipulation to W4, where I stumbled on it.

"Deacon Reader" Summer Reading 6

Chapter 3 - The Deacon and Gaudium et Spes (Fr. McPartlan)

This essay argues that "We must try... to relate the diaconate... to some of the major principles of Vatican II's teaching," and especially to the main themes of the Constitution on the Church in the Modern World, Gaudium et Spes.

The first major principle he notes, in the second paragraph and following, is Church unity (my p. 57). Charity, he notes, serves unity, as does the authentic kerygma of the Good News, along with reaching out to the marginalized (probably envisioning both ecumenism and social justice) and defending the rights of the weak. Then he has a long section on the relationship between Church and the world, and the relevance of this to the diaconate (which we'll come back to in a moment), before listing other major principles at the end (by way of demonstrating what he's been trying to say). The other major principles he notes (my p. 73) are (2) the Church as servant, (3) the central role of the College of Bishops (and the implications of this for the meaning of the Sacrament of Holy Orders), (4) that "good liturgy animates the apostolate [of the laity]," and (5) solidarity.

Now, as principles for the Church, these five are quite solid. The challenge of the essay is in the part about the relationship of Church and world.

He wants to argue that the Church and the world should be united in the manner of "seamlessness" (p. 65, beginning of the section, "Deacons and the New Ecclesial Embrace of the World"). He says, "Everything she [the Church] does is for the salvation of the world, of which she is thoroughly a part" (p. 60, just after the long quote from JP2 at the Assisi ecumenical meeting in 2002).

Now, there's an obviously sense in which this is true: the Church has never not understood herself to be both "in the world" and "for the world." Even the most isolated hermit serves the world by praying and sacrificing. And every attempt to deny that Christ established the Church for the whole world (e.g., Manicheaism in the 4th-5th c., Waldensians et al in the 12th c., Jansenism in the 18th-19th c.) has been roundly condemned.

But at the same time, the Church has also always understood that she is supposed to be "not of the world." The world is fallen. Original sin exists. Personal sin exists. This is the universal and unchanging basis for admitting that we need a Savior. By baptism, we die in a very real sense, in the order of fallen nature, so that we can live the new life of Christ. The life of struggling to carry the Cross is, at the most basic, completely different from the life of not struggling to carry the Cross.

It's not clear in this essay that this "seamlessness" argument includes both of these terms. The "in and for the world" part predominates; the conversion part is hard to see. At best, it's implicitly present in what is preached, and how that preaching might be received by the modern world.

In the section on the "Deacon and the New Ecclesial Embrace..." (my p. 65ff), he states that deacons should be signs of this seamless solidarity; present in the world, somewhat like what the worker-priest movement tried in the 1950's; a kind of link between altar and world (he doesn't mention that both priests and laity do this also, each in different ways from deacons); a reader of the signs of the times and an applier of the Gospel to them.

If he means all this as "in and for the world" only, without the expectation of conversion to Christ, then all this is pretty obviously flawed. Without the demand of conversion, solidarity degenerates into mere niceness; presence gives way to autonomy and moral relativism; the Eucharistic altar stands well apart from the world; and the signs of the times can never say anything truly human, but only fads and whims as culture drifts.

I have a hard time thinking this is what Fr. McPartlan really meant. So, we must read in explicitly the need for conversion. Then I think his argument is pretty good, although still imprecise. With the demand for conversion to Christ (even if that demand is not made explicit in every act), then these things make more sense. Solidarity with my neighbor is a way of being in Christ, together; presence brings the grace of Christ into a situation; the Eucharistic altar calls everyone to truth and beauty; and the signs of the times can speak essential human needs, where Mercy is most hungered for.

But, I still note that this is only descriptive, not definitive. I argue that the set of {solidarity, presence, linking to the altar, and responding to true need} is what deacons do, not because of ordination, but because of baptism. These four aspects are general modes of discipleship. We have to dig deeper if we want to see in what particular, unique manner they are modes of diaconal ministry.

For example, in his opening list of principles, he notes the special role of the College of Bishops, and therefore of ordained ministry, and therefore (one infers) of the particular share in the apostolic ministry each of the lower grades (priests and deacons) receives. So how does the sacred power to proclaim the Gospel by word and action, in liturgy and in ministry, give a unique shape or character to the deacon's particular discipleship? He says it should be "symbolic of their [deacons'] relationships and activities in the world at large" (my p. 76, third-to-last paragraph). But none of our sacraments are mere symbols; so, symbolic in what sacramental sense?

Likewise, the principle that good liturgy animates the apostolate clearly means something different for deacons than for priests, since our liturgical roles are distinct. So, what exactly does it mean for deacons? How can we, in our liturgical ministry, be in solidarity with the laity, or with the whole world; or be present to them; or link them to the Eucharist; or (help) respond to their actual needs for grace and mercy?

"Deacon Reader" Summer Reading 5

Fr. Enright finishes up his survey of the history of the diaconate with a very quick look at the medieval period (roughly, 700 to 1500), the Council of Trent, and Vatican II.

In keeping with what we've already said about continuity in the most basic idea of what the diaconate is sacramentally, note especially the first quote from St. Isidore of Seville and the last quote from St. Thomas (p. 20 and 22 in my edition). Even though the diaconate was more and more treated as "transitional" throughout this period, we do know that it (and the minor orders) were flourishing. St. Isidore gives it a very significant degree of respect, and St. Thomas's theology (although shaped by his very heavy concentration on the priesthood and confection of the Eucharist, typical of the time) articulates a clear "sacred power" to proclaim the Gospel, both liturgically and, I think, ministerially, which the handing over of the Book of the Gospels in the ordination rite signifies. Nothing here seems to indicate an order in decline or being marginalized in the Church, despite the relative lack of "permanent" deacons.

The Council of Trent considered, but did not in the end enact, a revival of the permanency of the diaconate. It stated unambiguously that deacons belong to major orders, but it did not give any clear definition of the deacon's sacramental identity.

In the 400 years between Trent and Vatican II, something significant changed, though, and this article (and the next, really), don't manage to identify that change. I don't know the reasons why, but two things happened: (1) the minor orders essentially disappeared from parish life; and (2) the norms of celibacy became much stricter. Those two things are probably related, in fact, but I haven't seen any research into how. What this means, though, is that the context of the "renewal" of the diaconate in the 20th century was significantly different from the context in the 16th or 17th century, in the wake of Trent.

One way to think about the renewed diaconate is that all the functions of the minor orders, which (at least in one theory) were unpacked out of the original diaconate, have now been repacked back into it. In a sense, it's useful to think this way, because we now look at deacons much the same way the medieval Church looked at the minor orders: ordained men, pillars of the Church as it were, mostly married, mostly not employed by the Church, taking on clear, necessary, but subordinate roles in liturgy, parish life (catechist, sacristan, etc etc), and witness in the world. (Theologically, of course, there's a big difference between major and minor orders, which we're skipping over here.)

The cost of thinking in these terms is usually the loss of clarity about the diaconate's "necessity" (as Fr. Enright puts it in his conclusion, last paragraph, on my p. 26), in three senses. First, (also because of our cultural attitudes,) we lose the sense that something is missing when Mass is celebrated without a deacon ("low" Mass, though we don't call it that anymore). Second, we lose the importance of the transitional diaconate - which, as we noted before, doesn't actually seem to be a "decline" of the diaconate in the patristic or medieval Church - even to the extent of suggesting doing away with it. (One of my biggest beefs with Deacon Ditewig is his foolish promoting of this very bad idea.) Third, we lose clarity about the deacon's "sacred power" of proclaiming the Gospel in liturgy and in ministry, and therefore about the deacon's most basic identity and share of the apostolic mission.

If we can hold on to the attractiveness of this vocation (in terms of the loose parallel to the way the minor orders used to flourish?) and at the same time hold on to a robust theological precision about identity, sacred power, and double usage (permanent and transitional), then I think we will be close to embracing the "necessity... to the Church and her mission" of the diaconate that Fr. Enright lauds in his conclusion. Which is devoutly to be hoped, prayed, and worked for.

Homily - Sunday, July 3, 2011

This weekend, as we’re celebrating the Lord’s Day, we also celebrate Independence Day, our country’s birthday. I want to share with all of you my prayers and good wishes for a safe and joyful holiday weekend. We can and should love our country, and especially the very high ideals of life, liberty, equality, and happiness that we stand for at our best. Those ideals are very good, and we’re very grateful to God for blessing us with them.

And yet, even given those ideals that bind us together, it’s still pretty hard to be a Christian these days. Our witness isn’t valued very much, is it? Often, it seems like most of our friends and neighbors just laugh at all the things that we as Catholics know are most important – things like our respect for tradition; respect for the dignity of each human person; marriage; justice; the Bible; the Cross; Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament; even life itself. Every day, if we want to live up to our high calling as followers of Christ, we have to fight for it. Picking up our Cross to follow Him means carrying a double weight – the weight of the Cross, and the burden of scorn and rejection.

So why does Jesus tell us, “My yoke is easy, and my burden light?” Doesn’t He know how hard it us for us to die to ourselves, and to die to the world, in order to love Him?

Of course He knows. He knows exactly what kind of a place the world is, because He lived here, as one of us. He knows exactly how much it costs to be faithful to God the Father, because He suffered here, just like we do. Being faithful to the Father cost Him everything! And if we follow Him, we will find that it costs us everything, too. There’s no such thing as giving yourself to God a little bit.

For those who are learned and wise and powerful in the world, this kind of total commitment, the commitment of the Cross, is crazy. That’s why they laugh at us – they think we are fools. To them, we’re like little children – because we’re afraid of the wrong things, and we love the wrong things.

Because the world puts its hope and its trust in things, not God, worldly people are most afraid of loss. They fear losing their possessions and their “lifestyle” so much that they’ll destroy lives and marriages to keep them. They fear being taken advantage of, especially by the poor, and so they give very little to worthy charities. They fear the loss of their reputation so much that they can’t trust their co-workers, even their own families. Beyond all hope, they fear dying. This kind of fear is totally irrational. It is why so many rich people are so unhappy. They can’t take pleasure in the good things they have, and they can’t even be happy for the good things others have, because they’re so afraid of losing these goods.

On the other side of the same coin, what the world most loves is self. The great and the wise of the world preach constantly that the only way to be happy is to indulge yourself. We can’t turn on the TV, or the radio, or the Internet, or open a newspaper or a magazine, without being bombarded with this message: Eat more! Buy more! Have more! Flaunt more! Make people envy you – then you’ll be happy. Never deny yourself even a small pleasure – then you’ll be happy.

But we know this is all false. It’s the wrong fear, and the wrong love, and it’s a very heavy burden for those who can’t put it down.

Jesus tell us, “My yoke is easy, and my burden light.” We who carry the Cross, we know that we should fear only God. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” – not the false wisdom of the world, but the wisdom of faith. It’s fear of God that teaches us how to let go of our stuff, how to give it away, how to share it generously with those who need it even more than we do. Fear of God teaches us that everything we have is His gift to us. In our own charity to others, we recognize some little part of God’s infinite and perfect love for each of us. We see that He is so good to us, so generous, so just. Therefore we gain faith and hope also – for how could He not give more to those who give freely from His gift?

Therefore the other side of this coin is love of neighbor. The Cross is a light and easy burden to carry, because we carry it together. Love is always a sharing, a communion between people, and between us and God, in Jesus Christ. That’s why love of self makes people bitter and mean; it doesn’t go anywhere; it only festers. We learn this first in our family, and then also in our Church. Our unity here, at the foot of this altar, is a great gift of God, and so we desire something of that unity to exist also in our city and our country.

That’s why the Cross is a much lighter burden than the world. Where the fear of loss prevails, there can be no true hope. But where the fear of God shines from our hearts, hope follows easily, and the invitation to put down the heavy burden of selfishness, and follow Christ. Where the love of self prevails, there can be no true charity. But where the love of neighbor shines from our hearts, true charity follows easily, and the invitation to put down the heavy burden of selfishness, and follow Christ.

So when the world laughs at us for our commitment to the Cross, don’t be afraid. Don’t get discouraged. Don’t give up. The world needs our witness to the liberty and the happiness of a holy life. Our country needs our faith most of all, more than anything else we can give. That’s why Jesus says, “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”

Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus

Act of Reparation

A partial indulgence is granted to those who recite this prayer. A plenary indulgence is granted if it is publicly recited on the feast of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. This prayer was prescribed to be recited on this feast by Pope Pius XI.

MOST sweet Jesus, whose overflowing charity for men is requited by so much forgetfulness, negligence and contempt, behold us prostrate before Thee, eager to repair by a special act of homage the cruel indifference and injuries to which Thy loving Heart is everywhere subject.

Mindful, alas! that we ourselves have had a share in such great indignities, which we now deplore from the depths of our hearts, we humbly ask Thy pardon and declare our readiness to atone by voluntary expiation, not only for our own personal offenses, but also for the sins of those, who, straying far from the path of salvation, refuse in their obstinate infidelity to follow Thee, their Shepherd and Leader, or, renouncing the promises of their baptism, have cast off the sweet yoke of Thy law.

We are now resolved to expiate each and every deplorable outrage committed against Thee; we are now determined to make amends for the manifold offenses against Christian modesty in unbecoming dress and behavior, for all the foul seductions laid to ensnare the feet of the innocent, for the frequent violations of Sundays and holydays, and the shocking blasphemies uttered against Thee and Thy Saints. We wish also to make amends for the insults to which Thy Vicar on earth and Thy priests are subjected, for the profanation, by conscious neglect or terrible acts of sacrilege, of the very crimes of nations who resist the rights and teaching authority of the Church which Thou hast founded.

Would that we were able to wash away such abominations with our blood. We now offer, in reparation for these violations of Thy divine honor, the satisfaction Thou once made to Thy Eternal Father on the cross and which Thou continuest to renew daily on our altars; we offer it in union with the acts of atonement of Thy Virgin Mother and all the Saints and of the pious faithful on earth; and we sincerely promise to make recompense, as far as we can with the help of Thy grace, for all neglect of Thy great love and for the sins we and others have committed in the past. Henceforth, we will live a life of unswerving faith, of purity of conduct, of perfect observance of the precepts of the Gospel and especially that of charity. We promise to the best of our power to prevent others from offending Thee and to bring as many as possible to follow Thee.

O loving Jesus, through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mother, our model in reparation, deign to receive the voluntary offering we make of this act of expiation; and by the crowning gift of perseverance keep us faithful unto death in our duty and the allegiance we owe to Thee, so that we may all one day come to that happy home, where with the Father and the Holy Spirit Thou livest and reignest, God, forever and ever. Amen.

June 24

Solemnity of the Birth of St. John the Baptist

The great summer festival - traditionally the big village party of the year, because crops are planted, gardens are flourishing, and the chances of starving or freezing in the next 3-4 months are remote. Hurrah! Bonfires, beer, and blessings galore.

This year, we won't be having a bonfire, but we will be celebrating with bacon! Yea! Friday abstinence trumped by solemnity! Carve off another hunk of delicious Iowa bacon, and garnish it with bratwurst. Just make sure you get to Mass before you break your fast con carne.

I love being Catholic! :)

"Deacon Reader" Summer Reading 4

By the end of the 1st century, the apostolic deposit of the diaconate (i.e., special share in the Apostles' ministry, given by the laying on of hands, including sacraments/catechesis/evangelization but not including the "breaking of bread;" with moral and spiritual qualities expected over and above initial conversion/baptism) was taking on the form of a more stable office. Fr. Enright continues the section, "New Testament and the 2nd Century" (p. 9-11 in my copy) by looking at the Didache (prob. Syria, ca. 90 give or take a decade or so), the Shepherd of Hermas (Rome, before 150), St. Ignatius of Antioch (martyred ca. 115), Justin Martyr (Rome, martyred ca. 155), and Tertullian (Carthage, ca. 180-210).

All five of these sources share the concern of 1 Timothy, that bishops and deacons (and priests) have particular moral and spiritual qualities. All of them list bishops, priests, and deacons as ministers of particular importance (sometimes adding others to the list, sometimes just those three alone). All of them repeat the basic parameters of the deacon's ministry, in varying levels of detail. Justin in particular, in his First Apology, esp. Ch. 65-6, gives us one of the earliest descriptions of the Mass, including the deacon's role of distributing Eucharist.

By the beginning of the 3rd century, Hippolytus, a priest in Rome, records for us details of actual ordination rites (p. 13, section "From the 3rd century to the 5th century"). These too reflect the apostolic deposit of Acts 6 etc., and the development of precision since. Bishops, priests, and deacons, and the minor orders, are described. Ritual actions and language to distinguish clearly the grades from each other have developed. There is still plenty of variation in what deacons actually do after ordination, especially in emergencies (read: pagan persecution).

After noting further examples in Cyprian, Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Egeria and Jerome, he starts talking about the decline of the diaconate (p. 16 in my copy; the paragraph that begins "The councils of the ancient church are a vital source...") He notes how conciliar evidence points to conflict between deacons and priests, and how councils started restricting the role of deacons in liturgy, etc. Fr. Enright argues (p. 17, 19) that the expansion of the Church in the 4th century increased "demand" for priests, who could say Mass outside the bishop's own church, and thus simultaneously decreased "demand" for deacons. Deacons, he argues, continued to serve their bishops, especially as legates and administrators; they didn't penetrate the rural communities like the priests did, and therefore faded in relative importance. He doesn't talk about formation and the bishop's trust in a proven deacon, but he implies some of this when stating that the diaconate thus became, by ca. 600, a "transitional" stage to the priesthood.

To me, what's interesting about all this is how stable the diaconate proved to be over these first 5 or 6 centuries. Despite all the changes the Church went through, despite all the different ways deacons were used in practice, despite the changing relationship between deacons and priests, the apostolic core (sharing the bishop's ministry, laying on of hands, sacraments/catechesis/evangelization, not confecting but giving Eucharist, expected moral/spiritual qualities) and most of the 2nd-century development (ordination rite, characteristic liturgical and ministerial roles) are visible at every point along the way. Given that stability, should we really see the acceptance of the "transitional" diaconate as a decline?

Last Saturday's diaconal ordination

Many thanks to Laura Anderson, who took this photo from the choir loft last Saturday, and shared it and others with me this week. Please continue to pray for Bishop Nickless; and our brother deacon Pat Behm as he labors for Christ this summer in his home parish, and as he completes his seminary formation this coming year; and for all our seminarians. May God continue to send us many good men to serve the Church and the world as priests and deacons.

"Deacon Reader" Summer Reading 3

In addition to Acts 6, there's good information on deacons in Phil 1 and 1 Tim 3, which Fr. Enright refers to in the first essay in the Deacon Reader.

Phil 1 specifically addresses the "bishops and deacons" in this city. They are described as having a "partnership in the Gospel" (1:5; and 1:7, "defending the Gospel") and as being completed by Christ's "good work in you" (1:6 - a prayer still used in ordinations: "May he who began the good work in you bring it to completion"), and as "sharing in God's grace with me [Paul]" (1:7). All these ideas resemble the actual ministry of the Seven, and will certainly become characteristic of the ordained by the end of the 1st century. But there's a little element of doubt that "bishops and deacons" are, this early, recognizable offices in the Church, distinct from others, because (a) the Apostles are still alive, and (b) Rom 16 refers to Phoebe as a "deacon". So the words "bishop" and "deacon" seem to be used to refer both to those on whom hands had been laid for the apostolic ministry (ordained, like the Seven), and on those on whom hands had not been laid for the apostolic ministry. In any case, even if, before the 60's, the identity of the clergy was still rudimentary and developing, the special share of the apostolic ministry given to some was notable.

1 Tim 3 also describes "bishops and deacons," given a list of moral and spiritual qualifications. This seems pretty clearly something different from baptism; even this early, it looks like, leaders of the fledgling Christian community were expected to be held to a demandingly higher standard. There is also a distinction, as with the Seven, between the bishops and the deacons, since there are two lists of these qualifications, not just one. The list for deacons (vv. 8-12) is still recognizable to us, and, in its essence, is what we're still expected to represent.

These three critical passages, then, seem to indicate that, even in the first generation of the Church, from the 30's to the 60's, the most basic truths of the sacrament of Holy Orders existed in the Church. Even though everyone in the Church was active in charity and ministry, some people were set aside by the Apostles, by the act of laying on of hands, to exercise a special share in the work Christ gave them specifically. There was the distinction between sacerdotal need (Apostles and bishops, which becomes what we call bishops and priests after the Apostles die) for "breaking bread" (the Mass), and diaconal need for preaching, evangelizing, baptizing, and so forth (deacons, like Stephen and Philip in Acts 7-8, from which all the minor orders, now reduced to lector and acolyte, eventually derived). There were moral and spiritual qualities looked for, which not all the baptized were expected to have. All this is part of the apostolic deposit of faith, but the precision of theological understanding and terminology developed in the next 2 or 3 generations.

"Deacon Reader" Summer Reading 2

We're looking at the first essay, by Fr. Enright. I posed the question,

1) What are the two points from Acts 6 he makes on p. 8? Do you agree with these two points?

On p. 8 he writes:

The diaconate starts out as seven men serving the Greek-speaking Jewish-Christian widows in Jerusalem, a serving that is to be found at two tables at which these neglected saints would sit, the table of the word and the table of charity, both places of need, the spiritual and the material, but each flowing from the other. To put it another way, serving these two tables meant that these men were engaging in an evangelization of the whole person.

Is this "evangelization of the whole person by word and charity" who deacons really are? What are your reasons for agreeing or disagreeing?

R. R. Reno on the Preferential (Moral) Option for the Poor

From First Things' online Public Square:

Want to help the poor? By all means pay your taxes and give to agencies that provide social services. By all means volunteer in a soup kitchen or help build houses for those who can’t afford them. But you can do much more for the poor by getting married and remaining faithful to your spouse. Have the courage to use old-fashioned words such as chaste and honorable. Put on a tie. Turn off the trashy reality TV shows. Sit down to dinner every night with your family. Stop using expletives as exclamation marks. Go to church or synagogue.

In this and other ways, we can help restore the constraining forms of moral and social discipline that don’t bend to fit the desires of the powerful—forms that offer the poor the best, the most effective and most lasting, way out of poverty. That’s the truest preferential option—and truest form of respect—for the poor.

Full essay here.

"Deacon Reader" Summer Reading 1

In the Introduction, Dcn. Keating writes that this collection of essays hopes to help clarify "the fundamental identity of the deacon" (1). We have to grasp what we are being called to, sufficiently that we can love our vocation. "In loving one's vocation, the conditions for the possibility of becoming a saint are established" (2). Please keep this ultimate goal in mind as we dig in to this summer reading.

It's fairly reasonable to start by asking, what has the identity of the deacon been in the past?

Fr. Enright's first essay gives an historical overview. He gives some indication of his method:

First methodological point: "[T]he historical movement of a great idea [in the Church] is from the implicit to the explicit. Therefore, the following trip through diaconal history starts out by uncovering the implicit roots of the order in the early church" (8). He clarifies a bit more: "As Kenan Osborne, OFM, cautions, when it comes to New Testament data about any ecclesial matters, one has to be careful not to read into texts anachronistically what appears at a later time in the Church's history" (9); and "The New Testament as we know it today was not completely formed into a canon until well into the fourth century..." (9). So he starts by looking at the apostolic information about the earliest diaconate through a somewhat skeptical historical lens. It's possible to take this skepticism too far; let's be careful not to be skeptical about dogma.

Second methodological point: "The history of the diaconate is painted in a very organic way by its intimate relationship to Jesus himself, whose whole life was diaconal, "to the point of death - death on a cross" (Phil 2:8), and to the call made by Jesus to all baptized Christians to be his servants in the world" (8). So the identity of the diaconate is assumed (not unreasonably, but note it's an assumption) to have some particular relationship to the two priesthoods in Christ (ordained, sacrificial priesthood, and common, baptismal priesthood). We should be alert to see if this relationship gets defined in this essay (or elsewhere in this book). This relationship should also provide a consistent element of continuity across whatever historical changes might surface.

Third methodological point: "At first all the ministries were verbs, the doing of something for the Christian community, but later they became nouns, designated offices" (8). He's suggesting that the earliest deacons defined their role by what they did, rather than doing whatever they did because it was "proper" to their "office" to do this but not that. There's a certain truth to this, but again, one mustn't take this point too far. We should understand that whatever the earliest deacons did was not entirely open-ended, nor defined only historically. If it's true that the diaconate is part of the sacrament of Holy Orders (which we believe dogmatically), and that all the sacraments are given to the Church by Christ in some way (which we also believe dogmatically), then the diaconate is given to the Church by Christ. So it has something inherent in it that the Church receives, not creates - presumably, that core diaconal relationship to the priesthood of Christ noted in the previous point.

Having noticed these three methodological points, let's look at his actual argument. He starts (see p. 8) with the most important NT passages on the diaconate: Acts 6:1-6, 1 Tim 3:13 (really 8-13), Phil 1:1, and Rom 16:1-2. But (perhaps in the interests of space in this book?) he seems to use the first methodological point to skip over much of the detail these passages contain. He's got just two brief point on the bottom of p. 8, but then passes on to post-Scriptural Church writings.

So, here are your discussion questions:

1) What are the two points from Acts 6 he makes on p. 8? Do you agree with these two points?

2) What else do you think Acts 6 means for the fundamental identity of the diaconate? (And in reading Acts 6, it's also important to read what Philip and Stephen actually do in Acts 7 and 8.)

3) What do the other three passages listed add to Acts 6?

Then we'll look at what he says about other apostolic and patristic texts.

Beatification of Blessed Pope John Paul II

Pope John Paul II had a tremendous impact on the Church, partly simply because of the length of his pontificate -- 27 years, I believe the third longest -- but especially because of the way he travelled and preached the Good News so passionately. People all over the world saw in him a fearless, committed, and above all holy leader and servant of Christ. The chants of "Santo subito!" which rang so loudly at his funeral six years ago were a clear popular recognition of that. Holiness, being more like Christ, always stands out in a world whose norms are so much NOT those of Christ.

What does Pope John Paul II's beatification mean to us as deacons or future deacons, here in this diocese? I think we can take three lessons from it, and strive to imitate what Pope John Paul II did best in preaching the Gospel: to preach fearlessly, consistently, and joyfully, as much by our actions and comportment as by our words.

Fearlessly: One of the Blessed Pope's most common watchwords was "Don't be afraid!" From a man who endured fascism and Communism for decades, and successfully fought against both with the spiritual weapons of the Gospel, this is not trite. The world now runs on fear. Because the modern world rejects every traditional (stable, permanent, universally valid) truth, and demands the "right" to define its own (constantly changing and personally valid only) "truth," "quaint" notions like trust, duty, obedience, and honor work against it. So these too must go. And into this vacuum rushes the will to power - i.e., that one's individual idea of truth will either dominate (success) or be dominated by (victimhood) those of others in one's social milieu. Thus fear flourishes, the fear of being overturned, of being victimized in either large or subtle ways -- the fear, in short, of having one's most intimate will thwarted.

Against this ubiquitous dread, the Pope's example of preaching Christ's truth (stable, eternal Truth) without fear, without seeking power over or fearing victimization from others really stands out. This resistance to fear is rooted only in trust, in faith in the kingship of Christ over human relations. Because Christ rules, love is the true nature of our shared life. His love is what overturns fear. The Blessed Pope knew this intimately, from the struggles of his own life in Poland; and he also knew intimately the fearlessness of Christ's love. We too know something of that fearlessness, from the best parts of our family and ecclesial lives, even if we haven't had to endure its opposite in the brutal manner of the two occupations of Poland. We too can draw on our own shared experience of the reality of Christ's love ruling our hearts, to refuse to be mastered by the fear demanded by the worldly culture around us.

Consistently: One great image of this Pope's consistency in preaching the Gospel is his forgiveness of Ali Aga who tried to assassinate him. Pope John Paul II didn't preach one way when things went well for him, and another when they didn't. He preached the same truth, regardless of who was listening, who was betraying, who was shooting (in this case literally) at him.

In the same way, another image was his suffering from Parkinson's in the last years of his life. Again, he preached the same unchanging Gospel. His own suffering added a personal depth to his imitation of Christ, to be sure, but the Good News remained. It continued to be Good for the same reasons, and his own illness was part of that Goodness, not opposed to it.

This kind of consistency is easy to admire as an ideal. But striving for it in practice means ever deeper conversion of heart. It requires a real and personal commitment to carry the Cross, however and going wherever Christ wants us. This commitment will not be rewarded by the world. Sometimes, perversely, it's also not rewarded in the Church, because we're all human and we can't hermetically seal out either concupiscence or some of the attitudes of the world. (Tangentially, how dangerous is it to mistake the consequences of our pride for evidence of being a "martyr" within the Church! Quod Deus advertat.) Simplicity, humility, and patience are the keys here. And a really good spiritual director. And, yes, even with these, easier said than done.

Joyfully: When we read Abp Dolan's book "Called to be Holy" in Colloquium last year, most of us were struck by what he said about joy and reliability in ministry. Pope John Paul II exemplified this very well. No matter what he was doing, or for whom, and even in his serious illness, joy in Christ's love was a tangible aspect of his ministry. Again, this is a very high ideal that demands serious, hard work against concupiscence and pride in our interior life. But this is precisely the work of carrying the Cross with Christ, of kenosis for the sake of the exaltation promised: "He did not deem equality with God something to be grasped at, but emptied Himself...."

The foundation of this kind of visible joy is gratitude. Can we be thankful for the Cross that we bear with Christ? It's easy to be thankful for blessings, and to return love for love. But as Christ says, "even pagans" do this. Those who belong to Christ are called to more, to give back only love for fear, hate, and indifference; to be grateful for suffering. Those who are called to Holy Orders have to show the faithful that this is possible, because they're certainly not going to learn it from the world (though of course they also learn it from each other, not only from us). So we must cultivate gratitude, by actually thanking God for every gift, whether we experience that gift as a blessing or as a burden.

Finally, it's no accident that this beatification is taking place on Divine Mercy Sunday. Not only did this pope approve and promote this devotion, which is so well fitted to our own times, but also God's mercy and providence were undeniably at work in choosing him when He did, and in sustaining him throughout his pontificate. Deo gratias! So, as deacons and future deacons, may the example and intercession of Blessed Pope John Paul II inspire us to ever more fearless, consistent, and joyful proclamation of the Good News of our Lord Jesus Christ! Joyous Easter!

Archbishop Chaput: "Politics and the Devil"

Archbishop Chaput gave a keynote lecture for a student Right to Life organization at the University of Notre Dame earlier this year, which is now published online by the Witherspoon Institute. Here's a taste:

Jacques Maritain and Leszek Kolakowski came from very different backgrounds. Maritain was deeply Catholic. Kolakowski was in no sense an orthodox religious thinker. But they would have agreed that good and evil, God and the devil, are very real — and that history is the stage where that struggle is played out, both in our personal choices and in our public actions; where human souls choose their sides and create their futures. In Kolakowski’s own words, “we are not passive observers or victims of this contest, but participants as well, and therefore our destiny is decided on the field on which we run.”

Politics is the exercise of power; and power — as Jesus himself saw when Satan tempted him in the desert — can very easily pervert itself by doing evil in the name of pursuing good ends. But this fact is never an excuse for cowardice or paralysis. Christ never absolved us from defending the weak, or resisting evil in the world, or from solidarity with people who suffer. Our fidelity as Christians is finally to God, but it implies a faithfulness to the needs of God’s creation. That means we’re involved — intimately — in the life of the world, and that we need to act on what we believe: always with humility, always with charity, and always with prudence — but also always with courage. We need to fight for what we believe. As Kolakowski wrote, “Our destiny is decided on the field on which we run.”

The whole essay is worth reading.

Maniple wave to Dcn. Rick R. for passing the link my way.

Continuing Conversion - Psalm 10

From Matins (aka Office of Readings) for today, from Psalm 10:

"For the wicked man boasts of his heart's desires;
the covetous blasphemes and spurns the Lord.
In his pride the wicked says, 'He will not punish.
There is no God.' Such are his thoughts."

All of us have heart's desires. For most of us, most of the time, what we desire isn't any sort of great evil; and most of the time, again, when we do desire something evil, we recognize it and resist that temptation. All that is good, and it means we're growing in faith and holiness, more or less.

There's another layer here that's caught my attention recently, and I was arrested by it again this morning as I read this Psalm. Sometimes, the good things we desire can be desired wrongly. We covet, as the Psalm says, rather than submit. In little pockets of our life, we let our own will, rather than God's will, dominate. I may let God choose what I desire, but I'm going to choose how I desire it, and how I pursue it. We think, as the Psalm says, God won't punish us for wanting something good, because of the goodness of the thing desired, even if we want or pursue it in a selfish or self-serving way. Or in other words, we want the fruit of the Cross, without having to walk the path to Calvary with that great heavy Cross on our shoulders.

Here's a practical example, that always challenges me: most of us don't take criticism well. Another verse says, "If a good man strikes or reproves me, it is kindness," but mostly we don't live up to that ideal. We don't look at the goodness of the person trying to tell us we're wrong, we only see the striking and reproving, and we don't like it. Frankly, it hurts, even when it's true and needed. We close our hearts, then, to the truth (as it so often is) of what we're being criticized for.

If this Psalm convicts us of having this interior struggle between my will and God's will, what to do? This is part of my journey, too, and I don't have answers here. What do you think? Prayer is obviously needed, but what kind of prayer works for this further step in our journey of conversion? Spiritual direction can also be very useful, but how to be open to it? How do we accept the fruits of our spiritual discipline in this way, so as to bring these little corners of our rampant will under God's kingship?

St. Leo the Great on our participation in Christ's own life and salvation

Pope St. Leo the Great is generally recognized as a great Church leader, a great theologian, and a vigorous defender of Rome and the Church. He is counted as one of the doctors of the Church, certainly. But he's also a great teacher of prayer. Here's a short reflection on part of one of his homilies on the Nativity, concerning Leo's view of how we participate in the life and salvation of Christ. It follows his profound understand of Incarnation (atonement, rebirth, freedom = the same pattern as his Tome to Flavian, "pre-existence, kenosis, exaltation") in how we receive the life of grace from Him (interior life) and how we live it out in the Church's mission (vocation, exterior life).



May the graces of this season of Lent enkindle the desire for deep prayer in all our lives.

O Happy Fault

As you know, this is my first Lent as a deacon. That means I'll be practicing the Exultet for the Easter Vigil, starting now. This is one of the things I've been looking forward to for a long time. It's never too early to start getting ready! Lent is, after all, about preparation for Easter.

Here is a good recording to practice with, and the sheet music to practice reading while singing it.

St. Anselm on theology and interiority: how to study while remaining open to mystical ascent

In our Christology class, we talked last time about St. Anselm's Cur Deus Homo (Why God Became Man). For all of us, here's a reflection on how St. Anselm sees the connection between theology and our interior and devotional life, taking three short passages from that work. Once again, I think he is masterful in this, and worthy of our friendship and imitation.

More March for Life footage

This 1-minute time-lapse of the March passing by a certain intersection is great!



Maniple wave to American Papist.

March for Life footage

A wave of the maniple to Dcn. Greg at the Bench:

Other "Diaconal Categories" and Canon 277

My thanks to Dr. Peters for obtaining permission to post his 2010 article, "Diaconal Categories and Clerical Celibacy" (Chicago Studies 49, pp 110-116) on his website. I was disappointed I couldn't get my hands on it last year, and am very grateful to be able to read it now.

I completely agree with his initial premise, that the so-called "permanent" and "transitional" distinction in the diaconate is fundamentally inaccurate, and that there is only one order of deacons. His brief sketch of how canon law treats all deacons the same in their canonical obligations and limitations shows how true this is.

I would quibble, though, with what he identifies as the significant difference, which the labels "permanent/transitional" attempt to identify. He says that some deacons (mostly "permanent" ones) are married men, and some (mostly "transitional" ones) are not. But as he then shows, this distinction breaks down rather quickly, not least because there are now also married priests in the Roman Church.

To my mind, the difference in not married vs. unmarried state, but rather the intention (or its absence) to ask the Church to discern a vocation to the presbyterate. So-called "permanent" deacons are, for the most part, "permanently" in their ecclesial rank (i.e. the one order of deacons). So-called "transitional" deacons, again for the most part, enter the diaconal rank already having asked the Church to consider if they have the presbyteral vocation. And nearly always, the Church calls them to Holy Orders as deacons precisely because she does discern their presbyteral vocation, and intends to call them to this rank of the clerical hierarchy in the future. In this sense, these deacons (though of course they never cease to be deacons) "transition" (lit. "go through") to the priesthood. Despite their inaccuracies, the adjectives "permanent" and "transitional" do (badly) describe this difference of intention.

What are the implications of this for our current fracas about Canon 277?

If this is true, then Dr. Peters is not correct to identify the present moment as the "crisis" of the Latin tradition of clerical celibacy. The crisis has been and gone, and this is rather its denouement. The admission of married men to the diaconate, and more recently also to the priesthood in certain circumstances, cannot be a "challenge" to clerical celibacy, since the Church has already passed the judgment that its tradition of clerical celibacy could and would be changed. That judgment came when Lumen Gentium noted the possibility of ordaining married men into the clergy, and Pope Paul VI issued Sacrum Diaconatus, permitting the Church to do so. Once that decision was made, the Church changed the meaning of its tradition of clerical celibacy, and therefore of clerical continence (whatever canonical relationship between these two might obtain).

The 1917 Code of Canon Law held all clerics to celibacy, and in practice married men were not ordained. As Dr. Peters argued in his 2005 article, everyone then understood "clerical celibacy" to mean the same thing as "clerical continence." In 1917, these were not two separate canonical obligations (even though conceptually a necessary distinction is made between them), but one and the same obligation. With the admission of married men into the clergy, and the necessary change of the meaning of the tradition of "clerical celibacy," some necessary change in "clerical continence" must also be made.

Dr. Peters's core argument is that this change came in the form of a new distinction, in the 1983 Code, between celibacy and continence, as no longer the same obligation, but now as two separate obligations. I remain unconvinced by this argument, in part precisely because of how closely "clerical celibacy" and "clerical continence" were tied from the 11th to the 20th century. Given the intensity and unanimity of that tradition for nine centuries, it is simply inadequate to introduce and define this new distinction in such a tepid and ambiguous manner as the current wording of Canon 277.1.

Therefore I still would tend to think that there is a defensible argument to be made, to the effect that, for unmarried clergy (regardless of rank), the Church still interprets "clerical celibacy" and "clerical continence" in the same way it has since the Gregorian Reform (one and the same obligation); and that, for married clergy (regardless of rank), there is a new and separate way of interpreting "clerical celibacy" (married men may be ordained under thus-and-such circumstances, but not remarry after ordination) and "clerical continence" (the details still being worked out in practice, as mentioned previously, but not "perfect and perpetual").

Diaconate, Marriage, and Continence

One of the things I think has been missing from most of this week's fracas about Canon 277 is the recognition that continence is, first and foremost, a virtue, a response of the heart touched by the grace of Christ, before it is an external, legal obligation. But then, of course, married clergy, just like all followers of Christ, are not exempted from it -- even if, as married men, they are not obliged (or at least have not been held to the obligation) to observe the same "perfect and perpetual continence" as unmarried clergy. So then, what manner of pursuing this virtue is desirable for married clergy?

As a virtue, continence is oriented to chastity (the universal virtue of "right use of the sexual faculty," from which no one is exempted). Right use of the sexual faculty means not using it in the wrong ways (e.g., it must be open to life), or at the wrong times (i.e., not outside of marriage, and even within marriage not when e.g., it fails in respect or self-gift to the spouse, or would give scandal), or for the wrong ends (e.g., separating in any of a number of ways the procreative and unitive dimensions). Continence supports chastity, by allowing us to choose not to use the sexual faculty when it would be wrong to do so. Marital chastity means that periodic continence is necessary.

The Christian marriage of all married clergy, then, ought already to include some measure of practical, periodic continence, by the time of ordination. But as clerics, married clergy are called to some manner of more effective leadership, or witness, or demonstration, of the possibilities of Christian virtue. There are two aspects of clerical continence for married clergy that we might consider. The first is "doing more;" the second is joy.

Doing More

Doing more with respect to clerical continence means responding more generously, in our interior life, to the grace which perfects our virtue. We have already the habit of practical, periodic continence. This habit could be strengthened by a more intentional practice of the same choices, by which, within the realm of our shared spiritual life in marriage, the sacrifice of the periodic continence is more deliberately made an act of spiritual union with Christ. A whole range of possible devotional and spiritual connections will suggest themselves here.

This habit could also be strengthened in another direction, through our clerical service to Jesus Christ (diaconal or sacerdotal). This is, in effect, the "Levitical" continence which is the tradition of both Eastern Catholic and Orthodox married clergy. By deliberately subordinating our chastity (and our practical continence by which we grow more chaste) to our conformity to Christ, we submit, together with our wives, more fully to Him. This would eventually entail growing into a certain uniformity of ecclesial practice in what, exactly, that means for our service to the Holy Mass. The Latin Church has no existing tradition of this form of continence, but perhaps our experience, now and in the coming handful of generations, will be a gift to the Church.

Joy

The visible aspect of our steeping ourselves in Christ-like virtue in these ways ought to be joy. We grow in joy by growing in obedience, in the freedom to love more whole-heartedly, which is the best and deepest fruit of grace and virtue. And of course, continence and chastity are about precisely that freedom, for married Christians, just as celibacy is about that same freedom, in a different way.

Continence, whether merely periodic, intentional, Levitical, or perfect-and-perpetual, is part of our Christian lives. I hope we can do a better job of using it well, to grow in chastity, and therefore in freedom and joy, so that we can better serve our Lord Jesus Christ, in every vocation, for the salvation of many souls.